


Music

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Fictober 2019 [21]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, poetic bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Six thousand years is a long time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Fictober 2019 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540126
Kudos: 29





	Music

**Author's Note:**

> For fictober day twenty-one: “Change is annoyingly difficult.”

Throughout time – about six thousand years of it, give or take – an angel and a demon had been meeting. They had met in gardens and in cities, on the bare dirt of harvested fields and the polished benches of public parks. They met to discuss the state of the world, and of their role in it.

The angel, pure and white and Good, in his long coat and curls, would offer greetings and peace. A little shy, a little too aware of himself, of propriety, he would keep his distance, dancing in and out of reach like the proverbial pin-bound celestial, for he was Good, and this consumed his sense of being.

The demon, red and black and perpetually in torment, suspended by his silver scarf between the dark and the light, would not be consumed, for he did not believe he was Evil anymore than he believed the angel was Good. He believed in grey, in a way the angel did not. But he would do the dance, in and out, shy and bold, for he loved the angel more than anything else on Earth, Above, or Below.

Sometimes the angel would reflect; “You cannot change,” he often said. “You are a demon. It’s what you do.” And he would sound certain, because in that moment he was. But sometimes, oh sometimes, he would offer, “Perhaps you could change. If you wanted to.”

“Change is annoyingly difficult,” said the ever-changing demon. “You never know what you could become.” But it was not himself he was speaking of, for the demon knew he could never stay still, could not cling to an idea as the angel did. He was always becoming something more, sometimes faster than was good for him, but he could never stop.

So it went for six thousand years. The dance of angel and demon, the eternally shifting rhythm around a steady, beating center, measure after measure as time ticked away, for what was time to a pair of immortals?

And when the song ended, the final note lingered, the last drum beat echoing remnants of the past, and the frightened angel, no longer Good but better for it, turned to the demon who had been his sole companion for so many years, and he asked, “What do we do now?”

And the demon, who heard the layers under the words, who heard centuries of longing and secret smiles and thoughts coveted late at night, the demon smiled and took the angel’s hand.

“We’ll improvise.”


End file.
